Life's a ... Have a Guess!

Allow me announce a little known fact. Ahem! Life is all abouuut ... eh ...  containers! Yes, you 'eard me ... it's all about containers innit ... receptacles, repositories, packages, depositories ... bags, boxes, pouches and pails.

I mean, to see what I mean you only have to think of all the containers you use every day - the bed, the shower, the wardrobe, the tin of fruit. The coffee cup, the cereal bowl, the milk carton, the spoon. The garage, the car, the road, the carpark. The kiosk, the pocket, the wallet, the newspaper. The foyer, the lift, the office, the desk. The PC, the G-mail, the Face-ache - even this 'ere ole blog! And more and more and on and on and on. Containers, containers everywhere! And proper order too. Just think of the chaos that would exist without them! The filth in our houses, the anarchy on our streets, the collapse of our lives, the end of civilisation! So, yes, thank heavens for boxes as they keep all things in place!

Everything needs a container, because for anything to exist and to function in this great spinning world, it needs to fit into (or onto) something else that will hold it in place. Secure containers bring order to our worlds, they let us know what to expect and this helps us all to relax - that is - until one person's containers start to get in the way of someone else's containers and the result is surly snot, complete chaos and utter clutter. And nowhere is this more evident than in the cluttertfest that is this here digital world.

Yes indeed, the interweb has created the perfect container for everyone's thoughts and ideas, for their cast-offs and tuppence-worth's, for their stuff and nonsense. But because there is only a certain amount of time and space in a given day, in a finite life, it's hard, and getting harder, to be heard or to hear anything lasting above the din. It's as though the more containers we are given to assert our uniqueness in the digital space, the more we just muddy our own waters and cancel out each other's uniqueness. 

It's pretty damn hard to see yourself as an individual of any real distinction in this bunged-up digital world. I mean, how can you set yourself apart in an environment where everyone is vying for the same finite space, the same flit of attention? The answer I fear is that you can't. Or if you can, your experience will be fleeting.

So what do you do? Do you do a Luddite on it and pray that a meteor storm will knock every satellite out of the sky and send us all crashing back to the year zero where we'll start again as hunter gatherers with no baggage and an equal chance!? You wish! Or do you just muddle through as always and continue to fill your digital bucket or box the way you do, taking comfort in the occasional triumphs that come your way, and in the fact that, even if no one cares or sees or listens to what you do, you are still doing it - in your own inimitable way? Hmmmmmm! I suppose it could be worse. At least, in this way, if yours is only one digital pulse among the quadrillions of other digital pulses coursing round the globe, it's still exclusively yours and you are thus one of a kind and thusly thus - the king of your own castle! And isn't that all that anyone wants?!

Just a thought.

Now, time to get back in my box!

More soon ...

The mystery of life - solved!

How well do ye know your .. eh ... my onions!?

They say there are as many ways to judge a person as there are to skin a cat. Par exemple - by the content of their character; by the company they keep; by what others say about them; by the clothes that they wear; by the car that they drive; by the books they do read; by the gargle they do imbibe - that sort of thingammy! One great judgement barometer, or maybe that should be coolometer, when I was growing up anyway, was by the type of bands a person listened to and, in particular, by the level of weirdness of the albums in the said person's collection. Thinking about that yesterday, I decided I would mood-board up a montage of my own records - so as to put my theory to the test while giving you all a little bit of an inkling into the musical measure of me.

I got cracking, cutting and pasting old pix and images to beat and, after ten minutes, bore the band! So I changed tack and got the notion of blanking out the crucial parts of the sleeves I'd selected - like the names of the bands and the titles of the albums - the grand idea being to spice things up a tad and obscure the obvious a bit! And by doing this I managed to change the nature of the project completely, turning the montage from a personal personality test into ... yippee ... an album quiz for y'all!

Nice one indeed, Cyril, even if I do say so myself!

So why not take a few minutes and see how far you get using the scale of: 0 - meaning 'sharing no musical taste whatsoever with me'  to 54 - meaning 'actually, you are me, or at least an exact clone of me!' So, eh ... let that yardstick be your guide ... and let the games commence!

Annnd ... to make it interesting - why not have a gander and tell me, in the comments, how many you got - you can submit a list if you want, and if you are the brainiest or the cloniest, then a cool, crisp pint of Tuborg could be flowing your way courtesy of ... ah, by now I think you know what I mean! Anyway, I'll post up the answers in a couple of days.

More soon ...

Name that tune! 



(Answers below - Click on 'Click here to read on')

Answers: 

1. Aja- Steely Dan; 2. Blur - Blur; 3. Blood on the Tracks - Bob Dylan; 4. - Grievous Angel - Gram Parsons; 5. Graceland - Paul Simon; 6. The Man Who Sold the World - David Bowie; 7. Remain in Light - Talking Heads; 8. Wrecking Ball - Emmylou Harris; 9. Drums and Wires - XTC; 10. Armed Forces - Elvis Costello and The Attractions; 11. The Band - The Band; 12 Setting Sons - The Jam; 13. Word Up! - Cameo; 14. Brilliant Trees - David Sylvian; 15. Never Mind the Bollocks Here's The Sex Pistols - Sex Pistols; 16. Mutations - Beck; 17. The Clash - The Clash; 18. Velvet Underground & Nico - Velvet Underground & Nico; 19. Astral Weeks - Van Morrison; 20. Fear of Music - Talking Heads; 21. Love Bites - The Buzzcocks; 22. Three of a Perfect Pair - King Crimson; 23. New York Dolls - New York Dolls; 24. Horses - Patti Smith; 25. The Specials - The Specials; 26. This is the Sea - The Waterboys; 27. Screamadelica - Primal Scream; 28. Pet Sounds - The Beachboys; 29. Exodus - Bob Marley & The Wailers; 30. Roxy Music - Roxy Music; 31. Transformer - Lou Reed; 32. The Queen is Dead - The Smiths; 33. The Modern Lovers - The Modern Lovers; 34. This is it - The Strokes; 35. Peter Gabriel (3) - Peter Gabriel; 36. Searching for the Young Soul Rebels ­­- Dexys Midnight Runners; 37. London 0 Hull 4 - The Housemartins; 38. Jailbreak - Thin Lizzy; 39. Cop Killer - Bodycount; 40. Marquee Moon - Television; 41. Power in the Darkness - Tom Robinson Band; 42. OK Computer - Radiohead; 43. Hypnotised - The Undertones; 44. Steve McQueen - Prefab Sprout; 45. Mind Bomb - The The; 46. The Lamb Lies Down of Broadway - Genesis; 47. Rum, Sodomy & the Lash - The Pogues; 48. Let England Shake - PJ Harvey; 49. The Stone Roses - The Stone Roses; 50. Suede - Suede; 51. Café Bleu - The Style Council; 52. Tin Drum - Japan; 53. No. 10, Upping Street - Big Audio Dynamite; 54. Inflammable Material - Stiff Little Fingers 

Officially a Sound Man!

Seven odd years ago I completed a one-year night course in sound engineering and music production at the Sound Training Centre in Dublin. Looking back on it now, it was a really worthwhile experience - a great course run by people who really knew and dearly loved their onions and sat by a great bunch of classmates, many of whom went on to achieve big and bright things in the music business and beyond. Doing the course wasn't without dividends for me either in that it acted as the catalyst that caused me to re-kindle my interest in playing music and to pick up my guitar again after a three year hiatus. Doing that, in turn, led to me discover and fall hook, line and sinker for the ukulele which, in turn, led me to form a band, something that I'd wanted to do for my whole life up to that point. Being in the band, in turn, re-kindled in me the will to sing and to write songs and this, in turn, led me to playing live gigs in front of loads of people and to record some of my own tunes, which in turn led to me getting on the radio and to appearing on the telly and so on and so forth and so fifth. When I think of all the things that came as a consequence of doing the course then, it would be hard, or rude even, to ask for anything more!

One strange thing about the course though was that despite paying whatever amount of grand it was to do it and despite attending it two evenings a week for nearly ten months and despite living and breathing every sound wave and every frequency ever dreamed up, I never really knew whether I was any good at it or even if I'd passed it or not. Yeah, I studied long and hard, I diligently completed all the assignments and dutifully sat all the exams. But the reason I never knew I was any good was because I never got the certificate, the bit o' paper, to tell me either way!

I remember ringing the college several times back then and telling them this but every time I called they told me that my results had been posted out to me and to relax because according to their records I 'd passed. But no letter ever arrived and thus not having the physical proof meant I couldn't tell anyone with complete certainty that I was qualified in sound engineering and music production. 'Try me on capital cities,' I'd say when the subject was broached. For seven long years, I changed the subject at the mere mention of the word jack or cans or toppy or polishing turds while deep inside me my jeerer of an ego mocked and slagged me that I wasn't qualified to put a sticker on a guitar case. Seven years is a long time to be left in musical technological limboland I can tell you!

Fast forward to yesterday though, when I bumped into the person currently living in my old gaff and who told me, by the bye, that she had a bag of letters for me that she'd been meaning to send me for 'god knows how long now'. (7 and a half years, m'dear!) So she ran into the gaff and got the bag and handed it to me and I brought it home and sifted through it to find that it contained nothing of interest beyond old bills and bank statements and junk mail. All valueless - except for one other item. Post-marked 16-08-07, it was a sealed 'Please do not bend' envelope which immediately drew my attention. So I tore it open and found inside ... one letter of congratulations on successfully completing the Sound and Music Technology course from the college principal of the Sound Training Centre; one certificate of attendance at said course  AND ... dan-dan-dannnnn ... one City and Guilds certificate which told me, for good and for bad, for better and for worse, that I'd passed the course - with distinction! Yahooooo!

So there you have it - you are now in the company of a qualified sound and music technology man of seven years standing - with the papers to prove it. And even if demon time has rendered the diploma as worthless as me Telecom shares - one thing for certain is that, because it officially represents the things that put the ukulele in my hand and playing music in my mind, that certificate is going to be framed and back-dated and placed with pride and glory on the finest part of my living room wall!  And for y'all to come and see!

Click to rock to one of my old assignments!

Ten Things We Didn't Know Last Week - #3

Been a couple of days since the last post, the reason for the slackery being ... ukuleles. Always ukuleles! But the new tune is well and truly rehearsed now, in the key of A, so it's time to get back to normal and to catch up on all those vitally important research findings that I've been missing and have missed in the time since elapsed. Such things as:

• The average parent who spends the equivalent of eight days a year (33 mins a night) persuading their children to go to bed. 
• Or the fact that sharks are nine times more likely to kill a man than a woman  - the great white shark being the biggest offender.
• Or that people living in the country swear more on Twitter than urban dwellers.
• Or the notion that drinking honeysuckle tea can help ward off the flu according to Chinese researchers.
• Or that bacteria found in honeybees could be used as an alternative to antibiotics and in the fight against antibiotic-resistant strains of MRSA.
• Or that people who worry about losing their job have a 60% increased risk of developing asthma than those who don't.
• Or, eerily, the 'fact' that the memories of clinically dead people show that 'awareness' continues for up to three minutes after the brain has shut down, well according to scientists at Southampton University at least.
• Or that dry-roasted peanuts cause more allergic reactions than salted ones.
• Or the fact that young people would rather go without a hot meal or clean clothes than be cut off from the internet, according to new research by SSE
• Or the worrying news that charging your phone in your bedroom could make you put on weight. Spanish scientists say that the artificial light from phone screens, street lights, laptops or television stops the body generating melatonin, a hormone which combats obesity. 

So now so, re-illuminate those pipes and get ye a-ruminatin'!

More soon ...

Insert yon fact in said pipe and blow ...

Serious Name Droppin'

Think of these seismic name changes: Cassius Clay becoming Mohammed Ali; Cat Stevens becoming Yusuf Islam; the artist formerly known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince (or, more correctly, Love Symbol #2!) becoming Prince again.  Peking becoming Beijing, Bombay becoming Mumbai. Mars becoming Snickers. Ballymun Avenue becoming Glasnevin Avenue. Many more besides!

People and places change their names or have their names changed for them for all sorts of rhymes and all sorts of reasons. Some, for example, simply might not like the sound of their existing names - Elton for one didn't like Reggie Dwight and Michael J. Fox just couldn't handle being bland ole Michael A. Fox! Others may feel that a different name better reflects their status in life - as Archie Leach did when he became Cary Grant or as Del Boy Trotter did when he became Derek Duval! Others still think a nattier name raises their profile a notch or two on the ole cool-ometer - why else would Mick Barratt have become Shaky or Bernard Jewry, Alvin Stardust!.

Yes, names change because times change, circumstances change, reasons change and people change. And in the case of this here blog we're not immune. In the past weeks and months the scope and direction of what's been written on these pages has changed a good bit - enough for the name The Dualist to no longer really reflect or complement the content. While I set out originally to write a blog to promote the book I wrote this summer, it's no longer just about that and, as such, I don't feel comfortable writing under a misleading moniker or using a scope that's so narrow.

So from today The Dualist blog will change its name to better reflect the source and nature of its content and will now become simply The Bag's Blog - and it's aim will be to be just that, a bag of blog covering a multitude of sins! That said it will be a bit messy and time-consuming to create a brand new template from scratch to cater for the new name so the address won't change immediately but will come in time - i.e. when I get round to setting it up. Meanwhile folks, many thanks again for taking the time to stop by and have a browse - the exercise would be pointless without your support and encouragement.

More soon ...

Coo ca choo it's ... Barney Jewry!

Added - 23rd October 2014. News in that Alvin passed away today after a short illness. RIP kind sir.

'By-kart' Revisited!

I was spinning along at a brisk 15 kmph on the main road the other day wondering whether to have either the waffles and bacon or the vol-au-vents for dinner that evening when out of the corner of my right eye I caught a glimpse of a man drawing level and then whizzing past me on a Dublin Bike. You could tell by his demeanour that he was enjoying the ride, the giveaway being not so much the grocery items that danced in the basket in front of him as the smile that was plastered on his face as he zoomed along - a face, I was surprised to realise, I'd seen before. Now, I'm good on faces it has to be said, but it also has to be said that I'm rusty enough on contexts and situations, so it took me a few seconds for things to fall into place. But they did.

You might remember a tall tale I told y'all there not so long ago about me trying and failing to help a non English-speaking Asian gent in his efforts to hire a Dublin bike from a station down in Grand Canal Quay. The famous Mister 'By-kart'!

Well, no word of a lie, it was the exact same chap!

So, I thought, he's done it! He's finally done and got his bike! Fan-tastic! I felt a surge of delight for him and his prize and said to myself that I really should be a good tourism ambassador and catch him up and personally congratulate him on his dogged determination and remind him of our previous encounter. So off I sped and within ten seconds I'd caught up with him at the traffic lights ahead. Small problem was that he was in the centre of the road waiting for the oncoming traffic to pass so that he could go right, down Barrow Street, while I was in the left lane headed for Ringsend. But as there was no traffic between us at that moment all I had to do was pull up by the kerb, give him a holler, offer up my best wishes and be on my way.

'I see you got your Dublin Bike in the end,' I shouted over to him and beamed a big smile of congratulations as I waited for his light bulb to switch on and for his thumb to go up. But he wasn't as good on faces, or indeed on situations, as me. Useless in fact and by way of a reply he merely turned his head towards me, scrunched up his face and gawked over at me either in bewilderment or as though I'd just asked him out on a date. Whatever it was, all he said in reply was: paal-don?

So I tried to explain the story to him, about the bikes and about having met him before, but as soon as I spoke, a number 77 bus passed between us and drowned out my words and blocked our lines of sight. Then as I tried to move my bike forward to see around the bus, the ongoing traffic cleared away and he was off on his journey into thin air - without as much as the waving of a hanky or the mouthing of a goodbye. So there he was once again, 'my by-kart friend who wasn't' with his Dublin bike that was, gone, and with them my best wishes crushed to pulp like grapes underfoot!

After that what could anyone do but opt for the vol-au-vents?

The famous Dublin ByKart!